


Lost and Found

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 13:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: Lavender lost track of Neville after the war until a chance encounter brought him back into her life. She’s not about to lose him again.





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Written for smutty_claus 2007.

Lavender awoke to a red world of pain, thrashing toward the surface of consciousness, flailing wildly. She managed finally to break the surface for a brief moment, gasping. It hurt, it hurt so much…

“Help me,” she pleaded, tasting blood in the words. “It hurts…”

Someone took her hand; she clung to it with all the fading strength she could muster.

“You’ll be all right, Lavender,” a voice said, shaken yet still soothing to her flayed nerves. It took her a moment to place it. 

“Neville,” she gasped. It hurt to breathe. She remembered falling, and then the agony of sudden weight crushing and sharp teeth rending and everything hurt so much… “Neville, I don’t want to die!”

“You won’t,” he replied, still in that calm, trembling voice. “Not while I’m here.”

She tried to say more, but the darkness closed over her again, dragging her under, bringing temporary surcease from pain. When she woke next, she was at St Mungo’s, and Neville was no longer there.

Parvati was, however, curled up in a chair pulled up close to her bed. She straightened as Lavender’s eyes fluttered open, flickering over her surroundings. Licking her dry lips, Lavender whispered, “Where’s Neville? He said he’d stay…”

“He did,” Parvati replied, taking Lavender’s hand in hers. “He stayed with you until the Healers came and brought you here. Oh Lav, you missed it! You Know Who is dead, Harry killed him, and Neville killed his pet snake, and he helped Ron capture that awful Fenrir who attacked you, and nearly all of the Death Eaters are dead or captured, and we _won_!”

“We won,” Lavender repeated softly, still more than a little groggy from the pain potions she’d been given. “What…happened? To me?” She tried to lift her hand to the bandages she felt against her face and shoulder. 

Parvati gently captured that hand as well, stilling her. “You fell from a balcony,” she said softly. “Broke more than a few bones, had some internal bleeding. Then…then you were attacked by Fenrir. I’m told that since he wasn’t transformed you weren’t infected, but…” She bit her lip, and only Lavender’s glare made her continue. “The Healers say the scars will probably fade in time, but since they’re caused by dark magic they won’t ever completely go away…”

Lavender turned her face away and closed her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lavender read everything about the battle and its outcome she could get her hands on. Her hospital bed was covered in copies of the _Daily Prophet_ , _Quibbler Report_ , _Witch Weekly_ , Wizarding newsmagazines, even issues of _Quidditch Weekly_. Her recovery was filled with articles covering the heroes of the war, Death Eater captures, trials, and gossip columns claiming the latest scoop.

Many of the stories she read included Neville, telling and retelling the story of what they’d all endured over the past year. _Witch Weekly_ dubbed both him and Harry Potter as Most Eligible Bachelor, though Harry was dropped once he began dating Ginny Weasley again. His face was everywhere, the image that of the Everyman overcoming huge odds to achieve greatness. Judging from the increasingly strained smiles in the photos she saw as the weeks passed, greatness was the last thing Neville wanted.

He began refusing interviews, unlike Harry or Ron. His photo appeared less frequently, and a few weeks after Lavender was deemed well enough to go home he was replaced by Oliver Wood as _Witch Weekly’s_ Most Eligible Bachelor. The mentions of Neville sightings grew further apart, more rare, until they stopped entirely. It was as though he’d vanished.

The press might have forgotten him, but Lavender never forgot his simple act of kindness when she’d been hurting and scared. As the months passed, she thought of him occasionally, wondered if he was happy, and wished him well, wherever he was. 

Neville might have vanished, but Lavender wasn’t given the same luxury. Parvati dragged her out as soon as Lavender recovered her strength, taking her over her protests to go shopping, to pubs, dance clubs, and Quidditch matches, to meetings with other friends from school. The scars covering her jaw, neck and shoulder made Lavender self-conscious. People stared at first, many of them old enough to know better. There were nights when Parvati danced all night while Lavender was dismissed by other club attendees, days when shopclerks pointedly averted their gaze while helping her find new robes. Lavender cried herself to sleep more than once after an outing.

Slowly, Lavender grew accustomed to the stares and whispers, bolstered by the support of friends like Parvati, Seamus and Ron. Hermione asked her to be a bridesmaid at her wedding. She even began dating again. Slowly, life returned to something resembling normal. There were even days when Lavender forgot the scars, she was having so much fun.

Still, whenever her friends brought her along on a social outing, she looked to see if perhaps Neville was there. She’d never thanked him, never told him how much she’d appreciated him over the course of that last year, never had a chance to let him know how much sitting with her when she’d been injured meant to her.

It took longer for her to find enough Gryffindor courage to strike out on her own, shopping for groceries or going for a bite to eat without Seamus or Parvati’s company. She made herself go, holding her head high, dressing as stylishly as she always had, refusing to wear makeup to cover the scars.

Slowly, but surely, she felt more like the Lavender Brown she’d once been. It was a good feeling.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lavender walked into the Muggle café after a long day of shopping. Sitting at a table, she looked around while waiting for the waitress, studying the other customers. Her gaze drifted over a man near her age dining alone, paused, and went back. It had been nearly two years, but she hadn’t been the only one who had survived the war with facial scars. His were the result of Cutting hexes, leaving fine white lines like strokes from a quill along his cheeks.

She’d wondered what had happened to him, this man who had held her hand and told her everything would be all right. Rising from her seat, she went to him, waiting until he looked up from his food, brown eyes widening in recognition.

“Hello, Neville,” she said softly. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Neville swallowed and smiled, somewhat nervously. “Hi, Lavender. You look well.” He waved a hand, indicating the empty chair opposite him. “Have a seat. I’m not expecting anyone.”

“All right.” Lavender took the offered seat, just looking at him for the longest time. Neville looked as he always had, though today he was dressed in jeans and a cranberry red jumper, a colour that deepened his brown hair and eyes. He looked fit, not at all like the rather chubby boy she remembered. Smiling, she reached a hand across the table. “It’s good to see you.”

Neville shivered slightly when her hand touched his before lacing his fingers through hers. “It’s good to see you, too.” His eyes lifted from his plate, meeting her own. 

Lavender’s smile broadened. “I’ve thought about you sometimes, wondered how you were.” Thinking quickly, she fumbled for a topic. “So, what are you doing nowadays? No one’s seen you in ages.”

He hesitated before replying, “I didn’t want to be found. All the attention after the war…I could only talk about that last year under the Carrows and the fighting and killing that sodding snake so many times before I couldn’t take it anymore. I just wanted to be left alone, so I disappeared. I’ve been living in the Muggle world for the last year or so. Gran passed away in her sleep and left me everything. I took some of the money and used it to start my own business. I run a florist shop nearby, live in the flat above. It’s good work; I’m happy there. I’m establishing a steady clientele.” He cleared his throat. “What of you? What are you doing now?”

Tightening her fingers instinctively around Neville’s, Lavender said, “I went into business, too, with Parvati. We design and sew robes for everyday wear. If you were to visit Madam Malkin’s or Gladrags you’d find some of our creations. We’re doing pretty well for ourselves. Padma keeps our accounts for us since neither of us have a head for numbers.” She glanced up as the waitress arrived, ordering a lemonade and a steak sandwich, rare as possible. Once she’d left she asked, “You haven’t seen anyone from the Wizarding world in over a year?”

“Not until you walked in.” Neville gave her a tiny smile. “Seeing you was an unexpected surprise.”

“For me as well.” Lavender looked at their linked fingers. “I never got the chance to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Neville raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“When I was injured and scared, you held my hand and made me feel better. Parvati said you stayed until the Healers came to take me St Mungo’s?”

He nodded. “You asked me to stay, so I did, even though you lost consciousness again.” His cheeks flushed, the scars suffusing with blood. “It…I’m glad it helped you. You’re welcome.”

“It’s been awhile since I last saw you on _Witch Weekly’s_ Most Eligible Bachelor list,” she teased gently. “Does this mean you’re no longer on the market?”

Neville winced – actually winced – and gently freed his fingers. “I was never ‘on the market’, as you put it,” he said quietly, but his voice was laced with a steely thread she remembered from their DA meetings. “That most eligible bachelor nonsense was one of the reasons why I left. All those people pursuing me, wanting to talk, wanting to be with me simply because I was supposedly a hero…I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get away, get a chance to meet people who wanted to get to know _me_ , not someone I wasn’t.”

Lavender blinked, taken aback by his answer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. Hesitantly, she laid her fingertips over his hand again, feeling the rapid pulse of his heartbeat flutter under the thin skin of his wrist. “I was only curious. And you didn’t exactly answer my question. Are you seeing someone? Engaged? Married?” She smiled to show she hadn’t taken offence at his unexpected outburst.

“Oh.” He returned the smile, somewhat tremulously, but it was still a smile. “Sorry. I’m…it’s been awhile since anyone’s asked me about my personal life without having to read the answer in some publication or another later on. I don’t know how Harry stood it.” He glanced up as the waitress arrived with Lavender’s order. “I’m not seeing anyone. The shop keeps me busy. I don’t socialise much. You?”

Lavender tucked into her steak sandwich with relish. The steak wasn’t quite as bloody as she might have liked, but she wasn’t going to complain. “I dated Seamus off and on for awhile after I got out of hospital,” she replied, “but it didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends. He’s dating Padma Patil now, remember her? Parvati’s twin sister?” She dipped a chip into the accompanying cup of au jus and bit into it. “I guess the fact you started living like a Muggle explains why I didn’t see you at Ron and Hermione’s wedding.”

“They’re married now? I guess they’re the first from our year?” Lavender nodded and he asked, “Who else?”

“They’re the first.” Lavender washed down the chip with a sip of lemonade and proceeded to fill him in with all the gossip. Harry was still dating Ginny, Dean was with Luna, Terry was studying to become a Healer, Seamus was opening his own restaurant, while Susan had used her late aunt’s contacts at the Ministry to get into the Auror training program despite not having a NEWT in Potions. She studied for that at night while training during the day, so nobody saw her much anymore.

Her plate was empty by the time she finished, as was Neville’s. She reached for the cheque, but he stopped her.

“I’ll buy,” he said. “It’s the least I can do after sharing such a nice lunch. Please?”

“Only if I can walk back with you,” Lavender replied. “I want to see this florist shop of yours.”

“I…okay.” Neville paid the cheque and extended his arm to Lavender, who accepted it with another smile. Apparently he hadn’t lost any manners while living among the Muggles.

The shop was small yet clean, bright, and most importantly, bursting with colour. Lavender wondered how Neville managed to fit such an enormous variety into such limited space before covering a smile with her hand. Perhaps he hadn’t completely surrendered his magic, despite his surroundings. Neville nodded to the single shopgirl behind the counter, who looked at Lavender with unabashed curiosity.

“Ellen, this is Lavender Brown, an old friend of mine from school. Why don’t you go on and take your lunch break now that I’m back?”

“Sure thing,” the girl replied, disappearing into a back room, but not before Lavender hear her mutter to herself, “What kind of school did they go to?” 

Lavender’s hand went unconsciously to her throat and she glanced at Neville, who was similarly running his fingers along one cheek. Their gazes met, and Neville smiled shyly. “What school indeed?” he asked. “I think she’s got it in her head that Hogwarts’ form of corporal punishment was rather extreme.”

She giggled, and a moment later Neville joined in. Ellen gave them both another strange look as she emerged with her coat and left the shop, and they only laughed harder, until Neville clung to the counter and Lavender wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. She’d never seen Neville laugh like that, with such a lack of reservation, not even before that terrible last year. He’d smiled, he’d been friendly, but she had very rarely seen him _laugh_.

“I’m having a dinner party with some friends tomorrow night,” she said suddenly. “Parvati and Justin and Seamus and Padma will all be there, and I know they’d love to see you again. Want to come? You’ll be saving me from being a fifth wheel.” When he hesitated, she added, “Your friends miss you. If it’s the media coverage you’re trying to avoid, it all died down a long time ago. Trust me, I won’t spring Luna on you demanding an interview, and I’m sure she wouldn’t do that to you anyway. Say you’ll come? Please?”

She waited, looking up at him hopefully, and at last he nodded, somewhat jerkily. “Maybe…it’s been a long time. All right, I’ll come.”

“Great!” Lavender smiled at him brightly. “I’ll come by at half six tomorrow. I hope you like curry.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was nearly midnight before the dinner party ended. Lavender closed the door behind Seamus and Padma before leaning against it, giggling softly. “I told you they missed you. I see Seamus managed not to talk your ears off, despite his best efforts.”

“No, but I think this one’s barely hanging on.” Neville tugged at one earlobe before reaching for his wineglass. “I think they were saved only because I had to do some of the talking as well.” 

“And not a journalist in sight. I told you so.” Stepping away from the door, Lavender collapsed onto the sofa beside Neville, accepting the wineglass he handed her. “That was a fabulous party.” 

Moving closer, she rested her head on Neville’s shoulder, watching the fire in the fireplace. It had mostly died away to ash and embers, the occasional tongue of flame rising up to lick at the shimmering red logs, the fiery glow sending shadows leaping across Neville’s face.

His arm curved around her shoulders, drawing her in. He felt warm and solid, his presence as comforting as that long-ago day after the battle. “Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked quietly. “It’s hard, getting back out there when you’ve been hidden from the world for so long. It’s better with friends.”

“Is that what we are?” Neville asked. “I don’t seem to recall anyone looking that hard for me.”

Lavender drew a slow breath, let it out. Lifting the wineglass, she brought it to her lips, the sip helping put her thoughts in order. “That was our loss. I’d like to think we’re still friends, unless you’re looking for more.” She shifted on the sofa, facing him fully, filled with a sense of recklessness she hadn’t felt in a very long time. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.” Setting the wineglass aside, she reached out, cupping his cheek in her hand, thumb tracing over one of the scars there before drawing his face to hers.

His lips were warm against her own, dry and surprisingly soft. Seamus’ lips had never been this soft, or this gentle. Her eyes drifted shut, concentrating on the sensation of his mouth moving over hers. The kiss deepened, his palm cradling her cheek in turn, the tip of his tongue testing her lower lip before she parted them and allowed him inside. His other arm tightened around her, the hand on her cheek moving, threading through her hair; and Lavender lost all sense of time. 

He drew back finally, dark eyes searching her face. “I don’t do one-night stands,” he said. “Actually, I don’t do any night stands. I’m not…I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, that’s good, because I don’t do one-night stands either,” Lavender replied before the rest of his words sank in. “You’ve never…oh. _Oh_.”

“Oh.” Neville tipped his head to one side. “Does that bother you?”

She shook her head, fingers lacing through his. “Not at all. It just means you’ll be extra attentive.” Leaning forward, she whispered, “I never stopped looking for you, not really. I was just looking in the wrong places.”

Carefully, she brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead before rising from the sofa, her fingers still entwined with his. He joined her after a moment’s hesitation, and she led him away from the fireplace and toward her bedroom.

Once inside she stepped into his arms, walking him backward until his legs collided with the side of the bed and they tumbled onto the mattress. Neville wore an expression of near-disbelief, alternating with barely suppressed desire. “Lavender, I said…”

“You don’t do one-night stands,” she said. “I know. I’m planning on making you breakfast tomorrow morning, and the morning after, and possibly the morning after that.” Brushing her lips over his, she whispered, “I make a fantastic vanilla _pain perdu_. I’m not asking for sex. I’m asking if you’ll stay the night. There’s a difference.”

“Oh,” Neville said again. “I – I think that’d be all right, then. I happen to love _pain perdu_.” He managed to keep a straight face for approximately three seconds before Lavender tackled him, tickling his ribs, both of them giggling helplessly.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Neville stayed the night, and the night after that, and the night after that Lavender spent the night in his flat above the florist shop. They ate lunch together almost daily. The evenings were spent with Lavender’s circle of friends, which quickly became Neville’s circle as well, as he gradually re-entered Wizarding society, sharing butterbeers at the Leaky Cauldron or attending Quidditch matches. Lavender often found Parvati watching her speculatively as they worked on designing their latest line of women’s dress robes.

But the nights…Lavender shivered with a pleasurable sort of yearning. Nearly three months had passed since that first night where nothing had happened beyond kissing and falling asleep in each other’s arms. They’d made progress since then, but they hadn’t yet consummated the relationship. Sometimes she wondered if they _had_ a relationship. There hadn’t been any real dates, they simply spent all their spare time together, either alone or with friends. It was hard not to think of it as anything else, especially when she closed her eyes and recalled some of Neville’s kisses, toes curling in remembrance.

She loved kissing him, loved every moment spent with him. Neville was kind, sweet, courteous, and unfailingly gentle, whether it was with his plants or when he kissed her, lips trailing along her scars as though they didn’t matter. She thought that as far as he was concerned they barely existed, just as there were times she didn’t notice his. It hadn’t taken long to realise she was falling in love with him.

He’d said nothing to indicate he felt the same. He obviously enjoyed her company, enjoyed kissing and touching, but Lavender had no idea if he wanted more, or even expected it. Neville, for all his affectionate ways, didn’t talk much, either about the year he’d spent among the Muggles or anything from their shared past at school.

Lavender didn’t care. She was with him. She had found him again, and she wasn’t going to let him go again.

That was the thought running through her mind that evening as she let herself into his flat with the key he’d given her. She was a few minutes early; she could hear the sound of running water as Neville showered, and smiled. She was early, and he was running late. The evening was already off to an interesting start.

Sitting down on the sofa in his sparsely furnished sitting room, Lavender picked up one of his botanical magazines, flipping idly through the pages while waiting for him to finish getting ready. She heard the water shut off, but when he hadn’t emerged from his room ten minutes later, she set the magazine aside and stood, curiosity getting the best of her.

She heard the sound of muttering behind the bedroom door and smiled. He got irritated so rarely. Raising her hand, she gave it a knock. “Neville? It’s me, Lavender. Are you decent?” She opened the door before he could reply and stopped.

_Oh, my._

Neville froze in the act of what looked like frantic rummaging through his wardrobe before straightening slowly. He was still damp from his shower, wearing nothing more than a towel wrapped around his hips. He looked…absolutely scrumptious.

Reminding herself to look at his face, Lavender dragged her gaze upward, looking into and taken in once again by his deep brown eyes. She could stare into those all day, she thought, slightly dazed. Not to mention that single lock of hair that kept falling over his forehead, the one she never tired of pushing back from his face.

He sat down on the bed, looking forlorn. “I can’t find my favourite shirt,” he said mournfully. “I could have sworn I saw it in there earlier. It’s not in the wardrobe or the hamper. I wonder if I left it at the Laundromat by accident the other day.”

“I’m sorry.” Lavender moved toward the bed almost before realizing it and sat down beside him, stroking that irresistible damp lock of hair out of the way. A single drop of water slid from his hair, down his throat and into the hollow above his collarbone. Lavender bit her lip, itching to lick it away. Dragging her focus back to Neville’s face, she said, “I always hated it when I couldn’t find a favourite jumper, or if I found a tear in a skirt.”

“It’s stupid, really. It’s only a shirt.” Neville cocked his head, studying her. “Are you all right? You seem a bit preoccupied.”

Lavender’s eyes traced the drop of water, which had slid all the way down his chest and into the towel. Kicking off her shoes, she lay down sideways on the bed, her head propped on one hand. Raising her eyebrows, she replied, “You could say that. Wouldn’t you like to find out what I’m thinking?”

Neville followed her gaze, reddening before meeting her eyes. “You’re thinking that dinner tonight can wait?”

“It can wait indefinitely.” Lavender’s smile carried a wicked edge, eyes twinkling. “Does that upset you?”

Neville didn’t answer right away, still looking at her body stretched out on his bed, throat working. Lavender kept the smile on her face, watching his eyes, seeing when he came to his decision.

“No,” he answered at last. Leaning down, he crawled onto the bed and joined her, his face inches from hers. “I’m not nearly as upset as I should be.” Bending his head, he softly kissed her neck.

Lavender leaned back, letting him explore her neck with his lips, her breathing quickening and her nipples beginning to tingle under his gentle ministrations. “I get the impression you’ve decided we can skip dinner entirely tonight. Am I right?”

Drawing back, Neville shifted to lie down on his side, facing her. “Depends on your idea of dinner.”

Arousal slammed through Lavender as Neville leaned in again, kissing her fully. She felt him harden against her as she kissed back, hot and hungry and praying that he wouldn’t change his mind, that he would finally be hers and she would be his in every way that mattered. Breaking the kiss, she slipped her fingers beneath the towel, loosening it, unwrapping Neville like the gift he was. “I’m wearing too many clothes for this,” she said huskily, “and so are you.” 

Tugging the towel away, she dropped it over the side of the bed, her gaze moving up and down the lines of his body with approval, taking in his broad shoulders and chest, his muscular arms and thighs, the slight swell of the potbelly that was all that remained of Neville’s former childhood pudginess; and finally his beautiful, erect cock. 

Neville sat up, drawing her with him, his fingers touching the collar of her silk blouse before undoing the first button, his eyes never leaving hers as he spread it open, hands sliding to her shoulders, pushing the fabric down and off her arms, joining the discarded towel on the floor beside the bed. Her skirt followed soon after, leaving her only in a red lace bra and knickers.

The expression on Neville’s face then was priceless, lust and wonder in equal measure, and Lavender laughed softly. “Gryffindor red,” she said. “Fitting, don’t you think?” 

His eyes followed her movements as she unclasped the bra, letting the straps slide down her arms and off before hooking her fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers, shimmying them past her hips and down her legs to join the rest of their abandoned clothing. She saw Neville swallow. “You…” He studied her body much as she’d admired his a few minutes earlier, gaze lingering on her breasts. “You’re breathtaking.”

“So are you.” Threading her fingers through his hair, Lavender drew him in for a long, deep kiss that he returned with equal fervour. Deepening the kiss, she ran her hands over the back of Neville’s head and along his shoulders and down his back, caressing the muscles there, feeling him shiver when they descended further to cup and squeeze his arse, fingers slipping teasingly between his legs as she rocked her hips up against him. Neville moaned into her mouth and she chuckled, raising a hand and pushing against his shoulder until he reluctantly broke away from her mouth and lay back on the bed, gazing up at her in anticipation.

Lavender straddled his hips, smiling when he raised them, his cock pressing against her. Leaning down, she ran her tongue from the hollow of his throat down the centre of his chest and across to his right nipple, tongue flickering over the tight nub. Neville squirmed and moaned beneath her touch, her breasts brushing across his ribs. Lavender shifted her weight, letting them sway back and forth over his skin while she continued teasing his nipples with her tongue, switching between them.

He made the most wonderfully appreciative sounds, moans and whimpers and sudden hitching breaths. Grinning up at him, Lavender caught his eye before reaching up and removing her hair clip, letting the strands cascade down over her shoulders to stroke along his torso. Neville gasped at the tickling touch, and Lavender couldn’t stop a quiet chuckle at his response.

Shifting again, she moved to kneel between his legs, bending her head to nibble along the ridge of his hipbone, pausing long enough to drop a teasing kiss on his scrotum before nibbling along the opposite hipbone, ignoring his cock entirely.

“Lavender, please,” Neville whimpered, one hand going to the back of her head, pushing her toward his cock with gentle insistence. “Please.”

“If you insist.” She kissed the base lightly before delivering a long, slow lick along the underside, hearing Neville’s breathing stutter. Grinning, she covered just the head of his cock with her mouth and suckled. Neville cried out, hands diving into Lavender’s hair, hips thrusting up in a wordless effort to make her take more.

Laughing softly under her breath, Lavender complied, taking a bit more into her mouth, moving slowly, teasingly up and down, making sure her lips slid all the way to the tip, and just as slowly back down over the head, her tongue caressing every last bit of velvety soft flesh. Neville groaned in his chest, his gasps incoherent, and she took more, tongue curling around his rigid length, humming contentedly up and down his cock. Shifting her weight onto one hand, she slid the other between his legs to gently stroke and caress his balls, fingers moving as slowly as her mouth.

She pulled off when he trembled, struggling against his need to come and end this lovely start to tonight much too soon. Waiting until he’d regained a modicum of control, she took him into her hand, fingers wrapped around the base. Sweeping her hair back over her shoulder, Lavender met his pleasure-dazed eyes and leaned down again, swallowing him down to her fist. Pulling upward with hand and mouth both, she moved both back down, moving slowly at first and gradually increasing the pace, meeting his eyes while she continued working his cock

Neville writhed beneath her, the air filled with his whimpers and breathless cries. His eyes had darkened until they were nearly black with inchoate lust, his breathing ragged and shallow. The taste of his precome, together with his breathy exclamations and throaty moans fuelled the deep, liquid ache growing between Lavender’s thighs, leaving her as wet as her mouth sucking and nibbling at him.

Swirling her tongue around the head of his cock, savouring the salty musk of his precome, Lavender murmured, “More of the same? Or do you want me to finish what we’ve started?”

“Finish it,” Neville grated, hips thrusting into her hand, which was still wrapped around his cock, stroking idly. “God, Lavender, finish it!”

His words sent a stab of pure need through her, and she moved up his body until she straddled his hips once more, rocking her wet heat against his hardness and leaning forward to brush her lips over the line of his jaw. His arms came up around her, fingers grazing across her ribs and down to grasp her hips. Kissing him hard and deep, Lavender took hold of his cock and guided him into her, sliding onto him in one swift movement, moaning into his mouth as he filled her. He thrust upward, kissing her back with all his might, his tongue weaving and tangling with hers.

Neville felt gorgeous inside of her, hot, so hot, and thick and hard, and Lavender moaned again into his mouth in appreciation before breaking the kiss. She sat up fully, drawing him into her more deeply, wringing another moan from them both. Meeting his eyes, she began a slow, deliberate rhythm, rising and falling, stroking and clenching around him on each upstroke in a manner intended to drive him into a frenzy of need.

His lips parted, a deep groan rumbling through his chest as he tried to keep pace. His hands went to her breasts, palming them, squeezing and rubbing them before fanning his thumbs over the nipples, teasing them into taut points. Lavender’s head fell back, hair brushing his thighs, her voice a low murmur of approval as he rolled them between his fingers, tweaking them, pinching lightly, then rubbing the calloused pads of his thumbs across the nubs.

Lavender leaned down again, her hands going around his wrists, guiding his hands to her hips. Kissing him hard, she demanded, “Now, Neville. Fuck me now!”

Rolling over, she brought him with her, reversing their positions so that he was settled on his knees between her legs, his cock still embedded in her tight, wet cunt. Neville leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of her, instinct taking over as he began thrusting into her with fast, hard, deep strokes. 

The friction was incredible. Lavender reached up, both hands grasping the pillow as Neville continued pounding into her. She pulled her knees up, letting him angle deeper, feeling her orgasm approach with startling rapidity, closer and closer until she fell over the edge, crying out in pleasure as it crested and broke over her, leaving her shuddering and boneless in its wake, moaning as ripples of pleasure continued to shiver through her.

Neville thrust into her hard one final time before stiffening, cock convulsing as he spilled into her, his eyes squeezed shut, fingers digging into her hips as he rode out his climax, gasping and panting, open-mouthed. He held still, breathing harshly, before it seemed his muscles melted and he collapsed atop her chest, rolling to one side, still buried inside of her.

Lavender sighed, sated and content. Hooking a leg over Neville’s hip, she wrapped both arms around him, cuddling close. He kissed her forehead and she smiled. 

“Neville?” He made a small, questioning sound in his throat, apparently still incapable of speech. “Did I ever tell you I make a fantastic vanilla _pain perdu_?”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her as he kissed her again. “I think you mentioned it once or twice, and yes, you can stay the night.”

Lavender’s smile widened happily as she snuggled deeper into his chest. Neville reached down, pulling a blanket over them before rolling her onto her back, bending his head to kiss the hollow of her throat.

“I love you,” he said softly, lips still brushing over her skin. 

She stretched happily beneath his ministrations. “I love you too, Neville.”

She’d lost him once, she thought as his lips closed over a nipple and her eyes slipped shut. Now that she’d found him, she wasn’t going to lose him again. Not now, not ever.


End file.
